


Cabin Fever

by aphytick



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Awkward Sex, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pre-Movie, mild asphyxiation, pretty much PWP let's be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphytick/pseuds/aphytick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stacker is sick of Hermann and Newt's constant bickering, and so he puts the two scientists in isolation hoping that they would work better as a team - and they do, but perhaps not in the way that any of them were expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> I usually avoid writing sex where I can (and boy, does it show) but this fic sort of called for it. A shout out to nemoralia for making me write this at 5am. How rude of you.
> 
> (Written in the wee hours as it was, there's more than likely a plethora of typos and grammatical errors, so please alert me to them.)

The Marshall’s orders had been simple – they needed to come up with a better way to track and keep tabs on the kaiju.  
  
He stands to attention in front of both of them, fixing them with a stern gaze in turn as if daring them to argue with his following orders.  
  
“You two are the only remaining scientists of this Defence Corps, yet you both seem to find the time to waste arguing with each other.” Newt opens his mouth to protest, a movement which causes Hermann to lash out with his cane and strike him on the leg before he can think to.  
  
This was no doubt seen by Stacker, but he ignores it as he continues. “I was hard pressed for what to do to remedy this, when Mako offered me a suggestion.” He clears his throat, and Newt thinks to himself that he truly is one for dramatics before Stacker overcuts his thoughts with a single word. “Isolation.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Hermann bursts out, before backing down sheepishly. “What I mean to say is how will isolation benefit either of us?”  
  
“It is not a matter of what benefits _you,_ but what benefits your research.” He gestures to Hermann, who salutes feebly. “Find a method of calculating and predicting a kaiju’s emergence location, effectively reducing casualties and damage costs.”  
  
“And what about me?” Newt asks, before hurriedly tacking “sir” on to the end of the question.  
  
“Find out exactly how the kaiju are developing; their adaptations, preferences and of course, their weaknesses. The kaiju seem to have been building a resistance to our weaponry as of late, and we need to figure out how we can improve before they’re entirely ineffective.”

Both scientists agree, albeit begrudgingly, when reminded of the level of teamwork that is required to make their mission a success – not just from the jaeger pilots, but from the remainder of the Defence Corps as well. In the lab, the tension mounts until it’s practically tangible – it’s been days without an argument, or any form of communication that wasn’t directly related to kaiju strategy. They settle in to a jerky rhythm and over the din of the metal that Newt insisted he needs to work, he comments about how it reminded him of working on school projects.

“Still, If you went to school with me, you would have made my life hell.”  
  
“You’re mistaken, as usual.” Hermann replies, without looking up from a map that was spread flat on the table. “If I went to school with you, I would have dropped out.”  
  
Newt snorts and turns back to the milking machine, saying something like “I’m surprised you made it through school anyway, dude.”  
  
Hermann stops location marking and sets down the piece of chalk, before half turning to Newt. “And what exactly do you mean by that?” He asks, before viciously adding “ _dude_ ”.  
  
“Come on, you were probably the kid people picked on in middle school.” He gestures vaguely with his hands to Hermann, forming a checklist. “Smart, a dorky haircut. You probably wore bow ties and cardigans, painting a _huge_ target on your back like you were asking for it.”

Hermann runs his tongue along his teeth for a few long seconds and then growls, stands up and turns on his heel, crowding Newt back against the blackboard. Newt’s eyebrows rise only slightly at first; he didn’t think he had ever seen his fellow scientist this angry, but then it strikes him that he might have hit a nerve. Hermann brings up his cane with both hands and presses the length of it against Newt’s throat. Newt swallows against the cool wood and looks everywhere but Hermann’s face, which is getting dangerously close by millimetres each second.  
  
“And what about _you_?” He spits. “Were you a popular man? No, I don’t think so. Your type, you – you were righteous. An activist, no? The man of the people? The rebellious type, always so eager to please, to _prove_ himself. Am I wrong, do stop me at any point.” He presses the cane that much tighter against Newton’s throat unconsciously, and Newt’s eyes roll back in to his head.

“Fuck.” He thinks. “Fuck, this is – _fuck._ ” He hopes Hermann won’t notice, but the other scientist inches just that fraction closer and Newt lets out a hiss between his teeth, and that’s done it. Hermann looks confused for a second, before glancing down and in his form fitting jeans it’s _painfully_ easy to tell that Newt is _painfully_ hard.

Hermann drops the cane which clatters loudly to the floor and backs away a touch, almost tripping over his own ankle. He’s flustered, and Newt would have laughed if he wasn’t so fucking turned on.  
  
“What is God’s name-” he begins, before stuttering words that are frankly unintelligible in his accent.  
  
Newt thinks he can brush it off, his brain begs his mouth to come up with a good excuse but his mouth clearly isn’t listening as he heaves out “that was kind of hot.”  
  
Hermann looks ill and Newt figures he probably does too, and he wrings his hands before throwing them up and saying “hey, you get stuck in this lab all day, every day, you’re bound to get a little frustrated.” He clicks his fingers once. “Like cabin fever!”  
  
“That isn’t anything remotely like cabin fever.” Hermann replies weakly, and Newt chuckles nervously in return.  
  
“No…I guess it isn’t. Look, I’m sorry dude, I don’t really know how-” but then he cuts himself off, and his tongue feels spongy in his own mouth because holy _shit,_ it’s not just him. Hermann’s hard too, but he doesn’t seem aware of himself as he can’t stop staring at Newt.  
  
“You’ve got a bit of a problem.” Newt says, not having the decency to stop himself from pointing. The words are slow registering, and Hermann takes his time looking down before his hands fly in front of his trousers.  
  
He gapes for a second before simply saying “well”.  
  
“Well.” Newt agrees.  
  
“You needn’t jump to any conclusions, this is perfectly normal.” Hermann begins, shakily. “We are red blooded males in an enclosed space, it can’t be helped.”  
  
Newt makes a non-committal sound in his throat and Hermann thinks “now he was definitely a few inches further the last time I looked” and as he watches he can see the distance shrink by the second.  
  
“Now see here-”  
  
“Hermann.”  
  
“What – I told you not to call me by my name.”  
  
“ _Hermann._ ”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“For once in your career – hell, for once in your life, just shut up.”

Hermann is appalled, he is outraged and indignant, firstly because of the audacity that Newt possess to use his name and secondly – _oh._

And secondly because Newt is kissing him hard on his drawn mouth, and Hermann isn’t as disgusted as he thinks he should be.  
  
Newt draws back, and his grin is almost triumphant – and that is when Hermann slaps him across his head.  
  
“What the _fuck_!”  
  
“How dare you!” Hermann cries, and at least Newt has the decency to look a mite guilty. He holds up a hand and counts off on his fingers. “Firstly, you make assumptions about my past. Secondly, you go against my wishes and use my name _twice_ even though I explicitly request you not to. Thirdly!” He all but bellows. “Thirdly, you dare to kiss me without my permission!”

Newt swears. “I’m so sorry, dude. For all of the above, not just – yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have kissed you like that, Jesus, I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, the kaiju on his forearm rippling menacingly and he is babbling now. “Do you take apologies? ‘cause like, I do. Apologise. A lot, fuck, that was a dick move.” He snorts at his own unintentional pun, before regaining some composure, and Hermann just can’t stand to listen to another word of it.

“Well, let’s see how you like it.” He snarls, and Newt doesn’t get a breath to respond as he’s slammed back against the blackboard and Hermann’s mouth is on his. He’s stunned to say the least, and he supposes Hermann is too, because they don’t move from that position for what seems like an age, but all at once fingers are clumsily working buttons and loosening ties and both of them are sure that this isn’t what Stacker had in mind when he ordered that they combine their efforts.

Newt pulls back for a second. “Have you ever done this?” He asks, and Hermann has the capacity to look insulted.  
  
“Regardless of what you think, I’m not some stuffed up – oh, _why_ are you laughing?” He asks, exasperated as Newt laughs in to the crook of his neck.  
  
“I meant have you ever done it with a dude, but if you want to talk stuffed up…” he trails off in to another fit of giggles, and damn him, Hermann has to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing too.  
  
“No.” He says, finally, and it is unsurprising. “I take it you have?”  
  
“Yeah.” Newt shrugs. “Once, in college. It’s different from watching it in porn, and _what_ am I saying, you definitely don’t watch porn.”  
  
“No.” Hermann says again, frankly embarrassed by Newt’s lack of a filter. Newt seems oblivious to this, and the only thing he picks up on his the fact that Hermann isn’t saying no to _him.  
_  
“So…my quarters?” Newt asks, and he bites his lip giving Hermann ample time to back out.  
  
“I suppose so.” Hermann agrees, and he pulls away from Newt and begins to walk out of the lab. “I wouldn’t want to make a mess in the lab.”  
  
“A mess.” Newt repeats, and Hermann bristles.  
  
“I did _not_ mean that nature of mess.” He snaps, and when Newt replies with “oh” dumbly, he realises that he’s made a misstep. “What I mean is – oh hell, I don’t know _what_ I mean.”  
  
“Well there’s a first!” Newt replies brightly, and Hermann doesn’t have the patience to assume whether it’s sarcastic or not. He stops in front of Newt’s room, glancing quickly around the corner of the hall.  
  
“This is my proposition. We approach this like one of your kaiju experiments and gauge just how far we can push the specimen.”  
  
Newt snorts. “I love it when you talk science to me, Hermann.”  
  
Hermann glares at him, raising a finger. “First rule. None of that sort of talk. You’ll embarrass me, and frankly, yourself. Second rule. You do not call me by my first name. Third rule-”  
  
“I take you to dinner after?” Newt interjects, but he’s grinning. Hermann ignores him.  
  
“It doesn’t leave this room. I have certain obligations.”  
  
“Deal.” Newt replies, pushing open his door. “I have a rule of my own.”  
  
“And that is?”  
  
“That you at least _try_ to enjoy yourself? Or at least lie to my face and say you did, a guy’s nothing without his pride.”  
  
“I won’t. Like I said, this is an experiment. It would do no good to falsify results for the sake of pride.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Newt drones, rolling his eyes. “Like that’s the reason. You’d relish in getting to call me a lousy lay.”

  
With a sharp spike of arousal driven bravery, Hermann shoves Newt roughly on his back and says “then don’t disappoint” before learning forward on his good knee and slipping Newt’s dress shirt off his shoulders. The courage drops out of his stomach as he swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. He had thought it was just the arms, _sleeves_ Newt had called them, but Hermann could see now that the tattoos stretched across the other scientist’s chest and stomach before curling around his ribs.

He didn’t notice his hand had been twitching until Newt grabs him by the wrist and says “go for it” and so he does, tracing his index finger along tentacles and fangs. Newt inhales sharply when Hermann unknowingly drags a finger across his nipple, but the other is too absorbed in taking in the masterpiece before him. He forgets to be rude and condescending when he asks Newt how far they go.

“Just to my hips. Need to save the rest of me for more kaiju.” He grins, and Hermann nods, curiosity sated for now. Without a word he pulls his coat and own shirt off, before attempting to tackle Newt’s jeans.

“Good _God_ , did you spray paint these on?” Hermann cries, irritated and Newt damn near giggles.  
  
“Jeez, give me a sec. I’ve perfected a _technique._ ”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure.” Hermann responds, drily. “Here’s an idea, and bear with me for it is truly ground breaking. How about wearing clothes that actually fit you?”  
  
“What, like drowning myself in some old parka?” Newt snorts. “No thank _you._ And hey, when you’re this tall, you learn to work with what you got.”  
  
He then slips both hands in the waistband of his own jeans and slides them down at an awkward angle until he is elbow deep in his own clothes.  
  
Throwing himself back on the bed, he says “cool, now pull them off.”  
  
Hermann stares at him, appalled. “This is _ridiculous,_ surely you can do it yourself.”  
  
“Well, yeah. Sort of, I mean, but this way’s quicker. And uh.” He coughs. “And this way’s sexier too.”  
  
Hermann refrains from rolling his eyes, and instead gestures to Newt. “Forgive me for not swooning at the sight.”  
  
“Oh what _ever_ dude, just get me out of these.  
  
The act is more acrobatic than either of them intends it to be and the mood begins to die a slow death as they hurl heated insults at each other, but finally the damned garment is off and they both stop to catch their breath.

Newt scans Hermann’s form, which is thinner and bonier than his own, before coming to a decision to lean forward to kiss at Hermann’s neck. He knows he tastes sweat and thinks he tastes lychee berries and assumes he can feel the nervous beat of Hermann’s pulse under his mouth.  
  
“So what next.” He asks, lips moving against Hermann’s skin. “Who’s getting the hard job?”  
  
“Ah, no, _no_ , I don’t want to – that is to say, I don’t think-” Hermann coughs, tapping an idle rhythm on Newt’s thigh before pushing him away. Newt frowns.  
  
“Spit it out, dude.”  
  
“Well, not to sound rude-“  
  
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you just said that. To me.” Hermann spares a quick second to glare at him.  
  
“Quiet. Not to sound _rude,_ but I don’t know where you’ve been.”  
  
“ _What._ ”  
“I mean, you could have any number of kaiju infestations. I don’t think there’s been any reason to test for them.” He trails off, and Newt blinks at him, dumbfounded.  
  
“So let me get this straight. We’re not going to screw because you think I might have some kaiju _STD?_ I don’t know what you think I do with them Hermann, but it sure as hell isn’t that.”  
  
“Oh, merciful – I know _that_ , but your precious kaiju haven’t been fully explored. Who knows what exactly is coursing through your blood stream right now. I can’t risk it.”  
  
“I have condoms, dude.” Newt cuts him off bluntly, and Hermann splutters before moving his hand sporadically between them.  
  
“No, this – this is fine.” He says quietly and before Newt can ask what exactly is fine, the words are punched out of him as Hermann takes him in his hand. He gets enough breath back to spit out a single swear before his breathing labours enough to have him push Hermann away.  
  
“Don’t let me have all the fun.” He says, as his fingers simultaneously work the front of Hermann’s trousers. He kisses him again on his open mouth, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls his dick out of his underwear. Pulling back, he shifts his hips closer to Hermann’s before grabbing his hand again and encircling it around both of them.  
  
“Is this good for you?” He asks him, and Hermann nods his affirmation before beginning to move his hand.

  
He places his own hands on the back of Hermann’s neck, and opens his mouth for fuller kiss. This continues for a few minute before, to the annoyance of Hermann, Newt inexplicably starts laughing. _Again.  
_  
“Oh for pity sake, what is it _now_?”  
  
“Is this not weird to you?” He forces out between laughs. “I mean, you hate me but look what you’re doing."  
Now it’s Hermann’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t – hate you, you simpleton. I don’t agree with any of your methods, or your theories and it is true that I find you endlessly irritating-”  
  
“Dude, I thought you were trying to tell me that you _don’t_ hate me.”  
  
“I haven’t finished. On top of all that, I find your obsession and admiration of kaiju worrying and, to put it mildly, strange. Still, you are admittedly a brilliant mind and your unorthodox methods have unearthed results in the past. I doubt that’ll be a much repeated performance, but regardless, you’re marginally effective at what you do.”  
  
Newt’s eyes are practically bulging from the sockets, and he laughs, saying “shit, can I get all that on tape, there was a compliment in there somewhere. Well, in your case-” he begins, but Hermann cuts him off.  
  
“No, no. I’m sure your praises are plenty, but my ego isn’t what needs stroked right now.” He frowns slightly, as if he can’t believe he of all people just said that, but it’s short lived as Newt grabs him by the waist and shifts their positions. Hermann flinches as his head hits the pillow, before he looks up at Newt with a raised eyebrow.

“And why, exactly am I on the bottom?”  
  
Newt shrugs. “I figure this’d be easier on your leg.” He says, and Hermann is almost touched by the consideration. He thanks him begrudgingly, but the words themselves tremble as Newt begins to move against him without warning. His head lolls back on the pillow in wake of the sensation of both of their dicks grazing against each other, and he works a hand between them to steady them. The other hand presses against the small of Newt’s back, forcing him closer and right then Newt breaks the second rule as Hermann’s name whistles past his teeth.

Newt’s arms strain as he makes a conscious effort to keep his weight off Hermann’s leg, focusing on pressing his hips lower, and deeper, and harder with Hermann’s aid. The dialogue flying free throughout the room is now more German than English, and more breath than word and Hermann puts his hand behind Newt’s neck as he pulls him down for a rough kiss. His teeth clash against Newt’s lips, and he stammers out an apology that Newt laughs over.  
  
“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” And he grins, flashing pink stained teeth at the scientist beneath him. Hermann tries again, slower this time, and pries open his mouth just in time to capture the shout that forces itself out from Newt’s lungs as he comes over their stomachs.  
  
A minute passes before Newt’s arms give out, and he banks to the side, laying down and gaining his breath. Hermann blinks at him incredulous before slapping him sharply on his stomach.  
  
“What the _fuck,_ Hermann, play time’s over!”  
  
“You selfish ass, it most certainly is not!” Newt turns his head groggily before glancing down and seeing that Hermann was still hard.  
  
“…well I’m going to be honest, that’s never happened to me before.”  
  
“Yes, well it’s happening _now_ and I’m not taking care of it myself.”  
  
Newt sighs, but it’s good natured, before rolling himself on his stomach again and pulling himself down until he’s level with Hermann’s thighs.  
  
“Are we sightseeing?” Hermann quips, impatient with the way Newt is eyeballing his dick rather than doing anything. When he gets no response, his temper begins to fray. “Oh this would be _just like you,_ you _insufferable_ – I have half the mind to go straight to Marshall Pentecost and tell him that half of this _think tank_ is faulty. How dare you proposition me and the leave me here to – _FUCK._ ”  
  
Newt smiles around Hermann’s dick, and has the nerve to fist pump next to Hermann’s ribcage. He pulls his head back for a moment only to say “I’ve been trying to get you to swear all night” before putting his mouth on Hermann again.

Hermann decides that he will find the time to be angry later, and he would be angry in _spades,_ but for now it’s just a simmering mild annoyance and Newt works him over. He lasts much longer than both of them would have thought, and he decides to _forget_ to warn Newt when he’s close and the arousal flooding through him is made all the more sweet by the other scientist pulling back sharply with a cry and a cough.  
  
“You did that on purpose.” Newt hisses.  
  
Hermann looks away indifferently, saying “I can’t say I know what you mean,” and Newt offers him a weak punch under the chin in response before collapsing on his chest. A few moments pass in silence before Newt props himself up on his elbows, and looks at Hermann consideringly. The elder of the two groans, before spitting out “what.”  
  
“Well, I was just thinking-”  
  
“Now there’s an idea.”  
  
“Shut up, Hermann, you were calling me a brilliant mind not half an hour ago.”

Hermann shakes his head negative. “You have no proof of that.” And Newt snorts.  
  
“Whatever. I was thinking. We’re scientists right?” He looks up quickly, daring Hermann to give a smartass response. “Right. But we’d be pretty damn awful at our jobs if we carried out an experiment without – repeating it –for reliability.”  
  
“Oh of course. _Reliability._ ”  
  
“And validation, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Newt slaps his fellow scientist’s chest triumphantly. “Great, so we’re in agreement.”  
  
“We’re – wait, what? In agreement for what, exactly?”  
  
“In agreement that we should do this again sometime.”  
  
“Oh, that’s not what I was agreeing to at all. I was agreeing to your stating that experiments should be repeated.”  
  
“And what was this?”  
  
“An – ah, I see your point. I assumed we were talking strictly business.”  
  
“Jesus, Hermann, you don’t waste any time, do you?” He sits back on his hunches, hand idly stroking down the nerveless plane of Hermann’s leg. “So what do you say?”  
  
“To the business or to the – the sex.”  
  
“The sex, I don’t really want to think about kaiju or Marshall Pentecost when I’m getting my freak on.” Hermann groans audibly at the infantile euphemism.  
  
“I thought one of my rules that there’d be none of that sort of talk.”  
  
“Yeah, but one of your other rules was that I couldn’t say your name, and I have – oh, at least three times.” Hermann swears weakly under his breath, and Newt grins at him again.  
  
“If it will get you to shut up, then fine. A repeat couldn’t hurt.”  
  
“Cool.” Newt says, nonchalantly before smirking at Hermann. “I’ll make sure I get tested before then for all those _kaiju infestations_.”  
  
“What on earth for?” Hermann asks, before their early conversation appears at the forefront of his thinking. A flush creeps from the base of his neck and blossoms on his prominent ears and cheekbones. Newt snickers at him, before ducking to kiss him again.

  
“Maybe this isolation won’t be so bad.” He laughs, wickedly, and Hermann merely sighs at him before pushing him off and turning away to sleep. Newt fits himself in behind him, and Hermann hesitates for several moments before sighing again and reaching behind himself to pull Newt’s arm around his waist. The other scientist grins against the nape of his neck, before kissing it, and soon they both fall in to a joint rhythm of breathing that falls effortlessly in to synch.


End file.
